It’s said that in the little Dutch village of Cabauw the spirit of a foal would solidify at the witching hour, to run between the towns’ two bridges. None knew where it came from. For all intents and purposes, it looked like an ordinary foal. Yet when the animal moved it sounded as if stuffed with pieces of metal, its joints filled the air with the creaking of rusted hinges. Some retellings mention its mane clanked harshly when galloping, reminiscent of iron chains. While rather innocuous as far as ghosts go, the iron foal would stop its mad dash for no one. When three farm boys decided to try and catch the beast it simply ran into them and continued on its way. One of the lads died instantly, and was later found to have broken all his ribs upon impact. A priest banished the foal in retribution. As the foal fled into the water, it spoke to the villagers, promising to return in 100 years.
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